


No Light No Light

by AlexMcpherson79



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, F/F, It starts rather dark but bear with it gets brighter, Kid Skye | Daisy Johnson, Natasha-centric, Protective Natasha, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Past, Skye | Daisy Johnson-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:18:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexMcpherson79/pseuds/AlexMcpherson79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning: The Start has strong hint at some rather dark happenings with a strong dose of could have happened.</p><p>At age Nine, Skye was rescued from a slave trader in thailand, by none other than the Black Widow. But thanks to the security measures that saw to her movement and being hidden, along with, other, things, she can't go back... but then, Natasha Romanov soon finds she doesn't want to let go, yet is afraid of what Skye might think of her over her day job as a super-spy-assassin, which would take too much explanation, given she's only thirteen herself...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You are the Hole In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Be prepared. It gets Dark.
> 
> 35 lines from the Florence + The Machine song (no first and last chorus so no repetition)... 35 chapters, or thats the hope. the titles MAY have something to do with the content.
> 
> Each chapter holds two parts, each part from the perspective of either Skye or Natasha, written in the first person. Natasha, well, she's kind of hard to capture, pardon the pun. but Skye, it's a different hard. I'm too used to season 1 Skye, so that's the perspective that comes through. Yes the 'robot' stuff is an intentional callback, in more ways than one ;-).
> 
> They are ALWAYS in sequence, even if the gap between them is seconds, minutes or months.
> 
> And in case you dont notice by chapter four, The odd-number chapters start with Skye, end with Natasha, and the evens vice-versa.
> 
> And a side-note, as I've been writing, I realized I've goofed on a timeline issue. So I need to make them a little bit older for when they get to the MCU Films and the show. originally planned for them to be fourteen/ten, not thirteen/nine, but somehow that seemed better. more time. then gave them too much time prior to europe. Oopsie. So for this fic, Tasha was born 1980, Skye 1984. the orphanage history part is offset four extra years, with 'the document' 1985. tasha left the KGB and encountered skye inside six months.  
> Avengers is still 2012. Tasha is 32, not 28, then, skye herself is 28 then, not 24.

_Skye_

Flashes. An old man and woman, harsh, always telling me how naughty I was.

Those same people, but around others, happy, smiling, polite to me just enough no one is any the wiser, looks of disappointment when talk about me being clumsy and too curious, how I supposedly got into the man’s worktop and cut myself with the angle grinder ?

A plane.

Strange sights sounds and smells.

Bad men, dirty, sending me looks I doesn’t understand but, they feel wrong.

The Cage. Dark, damp, no food. No water.

Bangs. Loud bangs. Voices, unfamiliar words.

 Red hair. A Girl, not a woman. Gun in her hand. The lock breaks, then a loud bang and she’s fighting the dirty men. A shout to run.

Taking cover in a corner, scared, I don’t know what to do. In the mouth of the alley, I see the old man and woman, crawling on the ground, asking for mercy. Red Hair Girl, Angry, pointing with her Gun. The pair stop, crying, using some words, for mercy. The Girls Name?

Raindrops on Tin.

Heat on my face, eyes open but  Too Bright. Shut them tight.

Shakes. Sweat. Drenched.

Pain, from all other. A soothing chill on my forehead? A soft hush, a humming, from where?

I’m throwing up. It burns, but it hurts to hold it in.

Hot. Too Hot. Stomach hurts. Screaming. I’m screaming. It hurts. IT HURTS.

MAKE IT STOP.

Sweet Darkness.

A voice in the dark. Soft, young, comforting. Words unknown, but not for long.

Recognition, a question. Food?

Too hungry.

Too much. It Hurts. But I don’t scream. Not that kind of Hurt.

Throw up.

Water. Slow. The voice telling me slow.

Days and days passed, I know this but don’t remember except in flashes. My life ‘before’, memories shaded in darkness. I can’t remember much. I Don’t want to remember.

My life ‘During’, similar, but the flashes are clearer, what they show tell me not to dig, what little is there knows chills me. It’s horrible. But I clings to the memory of the one that those flashes show to be a saviour. A Name, spoken not by the girl, but those who recognised the girl. The Old Man and Woman knew the girl, somehow.

The girl killed them. A gun has that sort of effect. But I’m not scared. I don’t know why except for the flashes, and don’t want to.

The ‘During’ ends, and I wake not to too bright, or darkness.

I’m in a tiny room, dilapidated. It looks different from... whatever it was I lived in ‘before’. Strange clothes are set out for me at a desk. Moving to it, I see a note. A long one. Most words unfamiliar. A struggle to read the bit of English on it. I feel like I should be able to read more, but that there’s a reason I can’t.

It’s Asking me to stay inside. To Wash, and change.

There is no sink, but a large bowl, wash cloth and small towel. A small vanity mirror to assist.

A flash, those guns. I stay, wash and changes. Though it’s a struggle, the strange clothes don’t sit the same as... whatever it was I was used to.

-

_Natasha_

I watched from the treeline, even at the distance I can see inside of the corner room of the old farmhouse, long abandoned.

The girl is scared, but there’s something odd about it.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I know I should be with the Boss.  Where I anyone else, I’d have had little choice but to obey the crime lord. But I’m not some random unlucky teenager kidnapped and sold into the underground sex slave trade... nor like the unfortunate ones whose guardians sell them into it, like what would have happened with this girl.

I’m the Black Widow. Assassin for hire. Youngest to hold the title, and before that I was a field agent for the KGB. And I’m only thirteen.

And that girl, malnourished, weak, barely able to walk and carrying far more scars than I do, is defenceless.

My training says to kill her, cleanly. It would be a mercy, one I did not give the girls’ guardians.

The words from the American embassy had already silenced one corner of the tattered remains that is my conscience. _‘I’m sorry miss, but according to our systems, this...’ The guard laughed, ‘Mary sue Poots, is fine, living with foster parents – not the same as you’ve named – in ohio. And she looks nothing like the girl in your photo. And she’s not asian. I can’t do anything.’_

This girl _is_ Mary Sue Poots, of the St Agnes Orphanage. The girl in ohio is the real _missing_ daughter of the now-dead foster parents I had killed, very slowly. A single round each, to the gut, then another pair, in the crotch. I’d already submitted the proof of the identity swap to the police in ohio, along with an urgent message to St Agnes.

Amazing the sorts of things one could do now that some things are getting onto this ‘internet’ thing.

Problem is that the only proof the girl is Mary Sue Poots, is from photographs of other foster families who are on the orphanages’ records. But other than that, Mary Sue Poots holds no records anywhere. No birth certificate, nothing. There was no way to get her back to the orphanage...

And I don’t want to, if _those_ people were on the register.

Which meant that she had no one.

 _Except you_. That treacherous corner of mt psyche piped in.

_Hush. I’m not equipped to look after a nine-year old._

_Au Contraire. You’ve done remarkably right here so far._ She couldn’t deny that, with the limited resources she had. _And you don’t want to kill her. Mercy killing some thirty-year-old, fine. But killing babes isn’t your style, now is it?_

I didn’t want say it was... _She’s nine, not a baby._

_She’s nine, a child, not an adult. An innocent child._

The obvious abuse she’s been through, then what those slave traders were going to do, if they hadn’t already? _What she’s been through I wouldn’t call her innocent._

_She wasn’t given your training. Her mind is probably a mess. She probably doesn’t remember any of it. Even if she did, she’s still a child._

_So am I..._

Yes. So am I, but I’m a merciless killer. I can look slave traders, warlords, triad hitmen, all in the eye, fight them, kill them, using many different methods, and walk away. Once, several of them at a time. I’ve never known life as a real, actual, child. I’ve never known what it is to be innocent.

 _You could, with her_.

_I just killed her guardians._

_I doubt she’d hold that against you, and you know it._

Eyes looked directly into mine, and it brought me out of the funk I’d settled into...

Those eyes.

There was no fear.

Relief?

Horror, yes, but... relief it was over?

I guess I have to do something, even if it’s just get her into the local f...

Just... No.

 _Told you_.

_Shut up._

-


	2. You are the Space in my Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something a bit lighter to balance out the previous chapter.

_Natasha_

“Come on, Maria, just five more.”

Bless her, the girl was exhausted, and I thought I’d already pushed her patience with this strength training, and though I don’t remember mine, I at least know when to back off, and Maria isn’t there yet.

“...th...th....thirty...one...”

‘Maria’ was gasping as she completed the first of her last five pull ups.

“th...thirt..”

I coughed and held a hand up, index up, middle halfway, and she concentrated on breathing and trying to get this one.

“Thirty Two.” I say with a smile as she relaxes for a second... making me wince. That’ll hurt... She goes to start thirty-three.

I can see she’s hit her limit as she almost gets to the apex.

“t...t.ta..”

I rush forward and grab her as her arms go, and she flops down.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I carry her to the bathroom, and as she falls asleep from the exhaustion, I’m left alone with my thoughts, and I couldn’t help wonder, what the hell I was doing?

I’m fourteen years old, and I’m trying to look after a nine-maybe-ten year old, who six months ago barely had the muscle strength to stand up, she’d been that malnourished by her guardians. Between that, the actual physical abuse that she still had scars from and whatever disease it was she picked up, that put her into a severe delirium, any doctor would have ordered bed rest and then she’d have problems standing once she was otherwise recovered.

But I couldn’t take her to a hospital.

As it was, she ended up getting hit by another disease less than a week later that destroyed what remained of her muscles.

I’ve had to teach her how to walk from scratch, and show her the right diet to building up her body fast. And she doesn’t complain.

She doesn’t remember enough of her life to complain about the restrictions. I would be complaining in her place right now, and I’m the trained super spy. Thankfully, she doesn’t consciously remember the abuse itself, though I get the idea she knows they’d starved her.

And since she’s rebuilding herself... well, I didn’t tell her so but this isn’t exactly the normal physio regime she’d follow at a regular, normal, law-abiding hospital.

She’ll wake in an hour, and then I can get on with her academic education.

Sometimes I don’t know which she prefers and hates. Yeah she doesn’t complain, but that doesn’t mean it’s not written on her face.

So open.

Unlike mine... and _That_ she has complained about.

-

_Skye_

She’s giving me that eyebrow of doom again.

Did I give the wrong answers? The right ones? Which non-expression is this?

“.. TASHA....”

I’m nine, (I think). I can be petulant... well... she lets me be anyway. If she knows I’ve earned it.

Ooh, I think I see a smile... no... yes! No...

DAMNIT TASHA STOP BEING A ROBOT!

She looks down at the answer sheet, and starts... Humming.

SHE’s HUMMING!

Now that’s just CRUEL!

She knows these are meant for older kids, and I’m sure she likes torturing me by setting these stupid exams and then...

“They’re all correct.”

...

Wait, all of them? But...

Wait... I was _right_?

“WOOHOO!”

Okay, that’s definitely I smile I see for a split second, as I dance about the little lounge we’d turned into our part gym part classroom. It hurts, but I always hurt from the excercises, I’m used to it and the idea that I’m smart enough for questions that the book says is aimed at kids _Tasha’s_ age...

“WHOS THE MAN! I’M THE MAN! GO SKYE!”

“Skye?” She asks amused, and I stop in shock.

It’s the name I wanted, the one that stuck in my head stronger than... than... _that_ name. Hell, the name she accidentally called me, stuck stronger than _that one_.

“... Uh... It’s... uh... my name...”

Okay, now she’s smiling _and_ giving me the eyebrow of DOOM!

Which I point out, and... woah, she looks SHOCKED... HA TEN POINTS SK-

“PUT ME DOWN! TASHA!!!”

“Oh no, I think that earned....” She pauses in thought and though I’m _over her shoulder_ , I can totally read the surprise on her face, though why, I don’t know... but it passes and then that amused look is back.

Uh-oh.

“I think... that earned good tickle...”

“a ti... a Tickle... N-n-noono-ah-no-haha-ha-sto-hahhahaha!”


	3. You are the Silence in Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cracks in the woodwork

_Skye_

“Hey Tasha?”

She glanced at me, and squeezed my hand a little, as we walked through the train station – our free hands pulling our trunks – mine smaller than Tasha’s, and though she might not realise it, I know hers has guns in it, though I don’t know how she’ll get them through airport security, since that’s where the train will take us.

I haven’t told her that I remember what she did with... them.

It’s not something we talk about.

We don’t even talk about what, this, is. Why she’s looking after me, if she’ll leave me or send me somewhere, if she’s staying with me...

I don’t want to leave her.

She’s cool.

Even though she does sort of kill people.

She didn’t exactly stop just because she’s looking after me. But I can’t help the thought that, the people she kills... are bad guys. I followed her a few weeks ago, when we were in Hong Kong. Oddly, I felt safer in that city than some of the small villages we stayed in between Thailand and there.

Or maybe it was because those villages didn’t have what we needed, and so she had to leave, sometimes for two or three days, to pick up supplies. And kill someone. Probably.

That’s what she’d told me, in hong kong. The, supplies, thing. But I saw her. She big scary dude with tattoos. Soon as he saw her, he pulled a gun.

She just smiled, and became a blur, then she was back in her original position, out of reach, and the guy was stumbling in place, before he keeled over.

I... it scared me, to know what she can do.

But when she got back to the little house we were staying in, and I tried to cover it up, she knew something was wrong, not what... but the way she dealt with it.

I just _knew_. I _Know_. She wont ever hurt me. Never.

“You okay, Maria?”

I frowned at her, then looke around in shock. Huh, we were already on the train, and it was moving.

“Spaced out again?” I asked.

She nodded. “Doing that a lot.”

“Lot to think.” I answered...

It’s true.

Thankfully, it’s a small private room, not the open carriages.

“Why do you kill people?”

... Oops.

I look up shocked that it came out... in any way, never mind _that_ way.

She was, struggling, to hide her own reaction.

“Usually because they’re trying to kill me.” She manages to answer.

Yeah, that much I guess I saw.

But there’s more.

“And when it’s not usually?”

“Can we not talk about it?”

“... why do they call you...” I lean in and whisper, “The Black Widow.”

I can see it. It’s... on her face. All on her face. Her _fear_.

She’s afraid.

Because of me.

Oh... God.

“s...ssory...”

I... I try to hug her, but she flinches.

I insist, and look at her. She’s... confused... afraid... oh god the fear on her... “Why are you scared? Nothing scares you...”

She gulps, and suddenly that small sinking feeling changes and I feel like I’m falling down, backwards.

“Where did you hear that name?”

....

Moment of truth, I guess...

Whispering, I answer, “The... the foster parents. That’s what they called you. Is it your... assssin name?”

“assassin name... yes...”

She’s on automatic... the fear.

Something occurs to me. My abusive guardians knew who she was.

They _knew_. And only super bad guys should know, right? She’s a secret agent super spy assassin.

“How did they know it’s your, assassin name?” I look away, that fear is too much, and this...

“You remember that?”

I stare at her, she knows... she _knows_ that I remember seeing her kill two people.

I nod, and hug her, telling her I’m not mad. I don’t think she can talk now, since she’s silent, and distant... and we’re not _that_ far from the airport now and _someone_ needs to watch our steps...

 

-

_Natasha_

Even as I removed the suppressor from the pistol, I caught the sight of her in my peripheral vision. I didn’t turn, I didn’t react. I just calmly walked away. Because that’s what the Black Widow is capable of. Being the untouchable, robotic - damnit Sk-Maria. -  assassin that the KGB trained me to be To kill, and then to just, walk away. If no witnesses was my order – and I never took missions with that on the list – then my training would THEN call for me to react.

Several blocks away, or what counts for blocks in India, I turned a corner and there she was, looking... not quite upset... but sad.

“Seriously, you don’t need to lie to me about when you... need to earn us some money.”

She’s eleven now. And that’s far too young to being resigned over how I have to take a contract kill to put food on the table.

She could have ran, there was some really nice places we stayed in the last year, and places were some couples who couldn’t have children would have taken her in no questions. I certainly did the work to make sure any prospects on that front would be good options.

But no... she wont leave me. She hates that I kill, but I’m fifteen, the jobs that pay well enough for what we need? Yeah, I’d end up killing the people in the others. I hated those sorts of missions with the KGB, I mean, I was as young as Maria is _now_ , when they sent me on honey trap missions.

They didn’t get just how it was that I could best the rest of theirs, yet every single time that sort of thing was involved, my ‘cover’ was compromised.  They didn’t want to comtemplate the idea that their loyal agent blew the covers because she didn’t want to have sex with, well, with anyone.

And that’s a situation that hasn’t changed. So the Sex industry, while it would pay more, no thanks.

The jobs that I could get with my skills that don’t involve moral ambiguity on my part? Well, I can’t, because of my aforementioned age.

And not here. Too many adults look at us both with a mix of lust and anger, because there’s no “man” in our lives to order us about.

Aint no way I’m letting her run _here_ of all places.

Somewhere between returning to this little hovel, and now, I guess I answered on automatic (okay, so I just sighed and nodded, but didn’t say anything), and now we’re sharing a meal.

“Nice.” I comment.

She smiles at me.

Two years of being with me and she still reacts to praise like it’s a rare thing. Soon as I noticed that much, I made a promise to myself about it.

That the smiles she gives me makes my heart feel less... cold... has nothing to do with it.

“So, how’s your Indian?” I ask as we finished our meal. The smile is gone... and I hate that part. She’s super brilliant, yet hates studying languages. She’s already fluent in three, and I praise her abilities all the time (like I promised) but thats not enough to motivate her to really focus, like she does with science and math.

-


	4. What I Thought and What I Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Embarrassing Moments...

_Natasha_

“You didn’t say when!”

I just laughed. “I thought I told you that I won’t say when.”

“No, you just said I should be ready! Then you actually hit me without...”

“OW!”

“What? Angry I hit you because I didn’t say when?” She just gave me a cheeky grin.

Oh, it’s like that is it?

I give her a grin, one I know sends shivers down her back, though I also know it doesn’t scare her.

Twelve years old, and she can read me even when I am in ‘Robot Widow Mode’ as she calls it. Now I’m trying to extend that to her being able to read body language, particularly, in a fight.

She’d done well with the basics of self defence. Now to show her how to apply it, to analyse in a fight where moves aren’t going to be choreographed, or explained beforehand.

She suddenly found herself on her back, with me lying half across her arms around her head.

“Did you see what I did with my foot, as I moved-?”

“... No you were a blur!” She interrupted with a huff.

I sighed, and got up. That reminded me of an important element that I totally forgot.

I’m a little bit enhanced. Not my speed, I’m considered at peak performance, but still regular human. The enhancement is my senses. That’s what truly makes me effective. You can’t defend against five opponents at once if you can see fast enough to actually _see_ the individual attacks in the order they come, and they come thick and fast.

“Sorry. I sometimes forget that I see faster than most.” I explain loosely.

I run it through again, and only slow it down a margin, wondering just how far the enhancement was, or is from Skye’s.

Maria’s. Maria.

I internally roll my eyes. She’s settled for letting me call her Maria, but she has introduced herself as Skye to people lately. No, not settled.

It’s the name I gave her, and she likes me, so she likes that name. It doesn’t have any silly connotations like... Mary Sue Poots.

“Hey, what did I do?”

I blink, and she’s there, looking defensive, but I don’t think I did anything to get that reaction. “Huh?”

“... You look like you really want to beat someone up.”

Oh. Right. Because I do. _The Nuns who gave her that frickin stupid name..._

Oh great,  now I’ve got yet another voice in my head, and it’s hers.

“Just an idle thought. That’s enough martial arts for this morning, Maria.”

She grins, and then I hold a hand up, and her grin falters. “You’re not gonna make me do more language studies, right? We’re in the  middle of frickin no-where, on top of a mountain that I swear is higher than everest because it’s _soo_ cold outside!”

I outwardly roll my eyes at her dramatics. I was never like that at her age.

_You were already a field agent at that age, dumbass!_

_Hush you!_

“Actually, I thought we’d do some body control training.”

She groaned.

Last time she fell asleep, since a lot of it is meditation.

And the first time that she fell asleep, she was learning it from the Buddhist monks in Tibet... though apparently, that’s a typical reaction for newbies, so there were no hard feelings. Especially since they sensed her sincerity in the apology she gave.

“Given the outside temperature...” I start, and grin at her expression. Oh, Maria. You make it too easy sometimes.

“It... but... Cold...”

I laugh. “No no, just meditation. But I’ll lead you through it this time, direct your thoughts the proper way.”

-

_Skye_

“Happy Birthday to yoooouuu....”

Natasha groaned.

“Happy BIRTHDAY DEAR NATAAASHA!!!”

“ _every frickin year_.” I heard her mumble, and I humbly place the (rather small) cake in front of her.

“Happy Birthday to yoooouuuuUUUUUU!”

“You know I’m not big on celebrating my birthday, right?”

I just grin. “You may not be, but I like reminding you that you’re not that much older than me.”

“Huh?” She looks confused.

Guess I didn’t make it clear enough last time.

“In other words... Stop acting like a little old lady! You’re Seventeen! Today! Some places, your an adult now, others, you’re still a kid! So don’t act all.... old! Only Old people don’t like to celebrate because it reminds them that, well, that they’re old!”

I calmly accept her glare.

And the eyebrow of doom. Huh, I’ve come a long way from that scaring me so much.

...

Pfft. It never did.

And I’ve been perfecting my own!

Which I now wield with Natasha-Precision.

...

Don’t twitch. Don’t twitch.

Was that a snort?

Wait that was me this time...

“Alright you win!”

I grin.

Celebrations are had. Not much, what with the two of us currently three months from civilization, working the long mountainous way into Europe... on our own. With our only power supply being solar panels and wind power generators to fuel our GPS locators and the lowest-power-hogging laptop I could find.

Now I know why she’d insisted on the physical training like making my body do more with less oxygen, and stay warmer without wearing as much.

Sometimes she looks at me surprised. Don’t know what that’s about.

Maybe it’s because I’m awesome with a bow and arrow. Somehow her sharpshooter skills didn’t translate. Or she is just letting that be my ‘thing’, since everything I can do, she can do better, and I can’t at the level we actually would need if she made one of those... you know.

But I’m totally awesome with the bow.

Finally it got to the gift giving part. And I’m nervous.

I mean, yeah I’m twelve, but I’m pretty sure that puberty started for me four months ago.

And it made me rather aware of that Natasha hasn’t had a single date or anything, and...

She’s gonna kill me for this.

Thankfully I found a second present to get her, so I can say this was the joke present.

I hand her the two boxes, the smaller, long thin one and a larger, flatter one.

I bought them with the allowance she gives me, and wiped me out for money quite a bit. Like all of it. But I know she’ll love... one of them, at least.

And I’m right.

About both things.

I tried to tell her to open the other one tonight, but she just gave me a curious look and opened it anyway...

Revealing the dildo.

I giggled nervously, and she glared at me... though there was a massive blush.

“But... How did... Where... When... you...”

Speechless! Ten points Sk-

“GERROFF TASHA!

She’s pinned me, tickling me and oriented a little uncomfortably...

“Why... how did- What the HELL?”

I freeze, as she’s frozen and I feel like she’s...

“Is that BLOOD?”

She got off me really quick and started to try to check me over... and I feel like there’s something, big, missing, here.

“It’s... Tasha it’s okay! I’m fine, really!”

“You’re bleeding.”

I nod, and embarrassed as hell as this ever came up, but I sigh and nod, and admit, “Yeah, I uh... I had my first period before we left.”

Okay, I know she knows about puberty, but theres something about the look on her face.

“Tasha? What’s wrong?”

“... but how can you, when I’ve not-...”

Wait, what?


End file.
